Taming of the Squint
by shipperfey
Summary: Booth and Bones, while adjusting to an unconventional family life, stumble onto a confusing and stressful case. Sequel to Something Rotten.
1. Prologue  Notes

**Title:** **Taming of the Squint**  
**Author:** Alice J. Foster (a.k.a. shipperfey)

**Summary:** Booth and Bones, while adjusting to an unconventional family life, stumble onto a confusing and stressful case.

**Category:** Romance, Angst, Case-work

**Spoilers:** Season 2 is fair game.

**Pairing(s):** Booth/Brennan

**Rating:** NC-17/M

**A/N:** This is the sequel to "Something Rotten"

**Warnings:** sex, graphic sex, angst, mature themes, mentions of torture.

**Started:** 10/01/07  
**Finished:**

**Thanks to:** butterfllykiss and n0mdeplum for the awesome beta-work. 

**Feedback: **Chicken soup for a starving muse.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the characters and situations you recognize, and I own the ones you don't.

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Prologue

Booth was pouring himself a glass of milk before bed in the middle of the night when he heard the sound of a television on.

While in Rome, they'd asked for Angela to search for vacant apartments in Brennan's or his neighborhoods, thinking it would make their shared custody arrangement easier. Except Angela had an idea of her own, and ended up putting a down payment on a new place instead. The place was a former duplex, newly renovated to house "alternative families" – whatever that meant. It was a two-story building with a basement; the top floor had two completely independent sides except for one bedroom which was now Hannah's. Downstairs, only the kitchen was shared. The basement was the only thing that was not split in any way, with a full-sized set of washer and dryer.

As expected, there were three TVs in the apartment, all on his side of the place: Booth's bedroom, Parker's room and the living room. Moving to investigate, he heard Hannah's giggle.

Stepping closer to the couch, he saw Bones laying there paying close attention to an animated monkey that was wreaking havoc in New York City. Hannah was safely enclosed in one of the three new playpens they'd bought when they'd arrived from Europe. Bones had been amazed at the quantity of furniture and educational toys available at the store; Booth had had to pull her out of there before she spent her entire fortune in one afternoon. They'd purchased two or more of almost everything including two car seats, to avoid having to move one around between his SUV and her new child-safe luxury sedan.

Bones finally noticed him standing there, and sat up, "Hey, sorry, she falls asleep faster with the TV. I think I might get one for my place."

"Nah, what for?" He shrugged. "There's three TVs over here. Even when Parker's over, there's still at least one not being used. I mean, we agreed on sharing this place because it would be more convenient, so there's no sense in spending money on a fourth television," he finished rambling, hoping he didn't look as pathetic as he sounded in his head. Even though each one of them had their own space, Booth was not immune to the ideas that living with Bones created in his psyche. It was hard to escape the domesticity of it all and the feelings it brought up; he knew Bones had to feel it even more acutely since she was less used to human interaction on a long-term and constant basis.

Bones gave him a shadow of a smile, and he had a feeling that Hannah might not be the only thing keeping her up; the nightmares she'd started having in the hospital showed no signs of stopping, though she hadn't confided in him again since that night in Rome. His only evidence were the bags under her eyes after some nights, and he knew if he tried to talk to her about it before she was ready, it would make things worse.

"Thank you," she told him honestly.

"No problem," he said, putting his glass of milk on the center table and sitting on the couch. She made to move her legs, but he pulled them back on top of his own without any consideration for the intimacy of the act. "Nice show," he commented, pointing at the TV.

"It's a movie," she corrected him and he didn't argue. "Pretty interesting; it depicts social inadequacy and consequently the integration of an outsider in New York City, and therefore in the American and Western culture. Except instead of a foreigner, they used a monkey."

He smiled at her ability to rationalize everything, even a simple kid's movie. His attention shifted to Hannah, who was concentrating on the movie as much as Bones was. It took less than five minutes until he was as engrossed in it as they were.

Neither of them made it upstairs to their rooms that night.

**

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Note: **I probably spoiled you all by posting Something Rotten quite quickly, but this time I'll probably post a little more slowly (considering I still have a chapter to finish and epilogue to write). Hope you guys bear with me. Also? Feedback makes me post a whole lot faster :P 


	2. Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

"Pack your swimsuit, Bones!" Booth announced as he found her in Hannah's room, changing a wet diaper.

"It's October, Booth," she pointed out, his enthusiasm obviously less contagious than he wished.

"Oh, come on! Parker is bored; he's been in his new room with a videogame all week. It's not often I get him for a full ten days, and in two weeks you and I are going back to work," he pointed out. "I was unpacking some of my last boxes and I found the shovel and bucket I got him last summer. He is so excited about going to the beach. Come on, join us!"

She seemed to remain skeptical, but luckily he had experience in convincing her.

"There's this awesome little beach in North Carolina, just past the state line. It's tiny, it's clean and best of all – almost no one knows it's there," he withheld the fact that he'd first discovered the beach when he and Rebecca had just started dating. "No bratty kids with bad parents running around, no teenagers drinking, no old guys with metal detectors. Just you, me, Parker, and Hannah," he promised.

He watched as she carefully considered her options. "Hannah doesn't have a swimsuit."

"She just turned seven months. We'll put a ton of sunscreen on her and she can run around in a diaper."

She sighed and he pumped his fist in the air, knowing he was victorious.

† † † †

Brennan watched through her sunglasses as Booth held Hannah by her arms as a small wave passed them. Hannah's gleeful squeal carried itself in the wind and even Parker laughed at them as he dug some sand for the castle he was building.

He got up and brought her a handful of seashells. "Look!" he announced proudly.

She took the shells and inspected each one.

"Aren't they cool?" He asked and she nodded, having an idea.

"I have a conchologist friend who has helped me in several cases," she informed Parker.

He frowned. "Concocogist? What's that?"

"Conchologist," she corrected him softly. "That's someone who studies seashells, although that's not an accurate name considering a lot of shells originate in fresh water, not the ocean. But we can send these to him and he can tell us more about their species, where they came from, how old they are," she explained.

Parker beamed at her, reminding her a lot of his father. "Awesome!" he said before running back to his sandcastle.

She felt less awkward around him, especially since all week he had been offering help with Hannah every time he saw an opportunity. The boy had been so excited about a new sister; Rebecca had been slightly less excited, but still ecstatic compared to Cullen's reaction. Brennan had been in the room when Booth had called Cullen; even she, someone with her handicapped sense of perception when it came to human interaction, had been able to deduce most of the exchange that had passed between the two.

The FBI had quite strict fraternization policies similar to military, which extended past forbidding dating or sexual relationships, and actually extended its jurisdiction into cohabitation and overtly emotional friendships. If the FBI suspected that the strong bond between two of its agents was in any way affecting the agents' objectivity, therefore possibly interfering with investigations, then a session with the Office of Professional Review was called to determine the future of the partnership. Her status as a contractor and not an actual agent rendered them immune to the same process, but Cullen had made it clear that if any investigation suffered from this new arrangement, he wouldn't even give them the _opportunity_ of an OPR session before splitting them up. He'd grudgingly agreed to sign off on Booth's family leave, and had calmed down enough by the end of the call to congratulate them both.

Their six-week leave would be over in less than fifteen days, and she was ambivalent towards returning to work; part of her wanted to return to her old domain, feel like her old self again, while the rest of her was apprehensive about staying away from Hannah every day. Luckily, every daycare worker at the FBI Headquarters was carefully screened by the Department of Defense, and went under extensive training.

Her fear of returning to work was just one of her current issues she hadn't shared with Booth. Another was the nightmares that afflicted her almost every night. The cuts had healed up; they were now just soft shades of pink, but ugly enough that she felt the urge to wear long sleeve shirts, even now at the beach. The only times she didn't have nightmares were when Booth would sleep next to her.

"I found another one!" Parker announced from his spot on the sand a few feet next to her.

She got up to see his discovery, realizing she was genuinely interested in his discoveries, just as if he were one of her graduate students. Parker handed her the new shell. "Wait…" she said as she looked over the 'shell' she'd been given. "Parker, go get your dad please."

He asked no questions as he ran to where Booth and Hannah played. She set the malleus down into a plastic bucket, then kneeled on the sand and reached for the plastic shovel and started to carefully dig. Booth approached her as she found a second bone in the sand.

"Parker found a malleus—an ear bone," she explained, and showed him the second bone she'd just discovered. "And this is a scaphoid bone. Judging by the size, it came from the wrist of a young child, seven to nine years old."

Booth was pale as he nodded, reaching for his cell phone.

The first call was to the FBI.

The second call was for a team from the Jeffersonian.

The third was to Rebecca.


	3. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Brennan stared at the twelve sets of remains in her lab. The security device behind her beeped and she turned to see Booth, who had changed into his full FBI uniform since she'd last seen him.

"Rebecca agreed to watch Hannah since we can't drop her off at the FBI daycare until Cullen puts me back on payroll," Booth explained. "What have you got so far?"

"We have twelve remains so far, ages varying between two and fifteen, both genders. Six are Caucasians, one is Asian, three African-Americans and two are Hispanic. Jack is determining the time of death, but I can safely say we are dealing with a wide time span between the deaths. Bones are missing – which makes sense, as any bones closer to the surface washed away with the tide. The good news is that we recovered all twelve skulls, so Angela is working on reconstructions."

"Find any signs of foul play?"

She shook her head. "Not so far. A few of the remains show some cuts but nothing that I can point out as cause of death yet. Something is strange, Booth."

He frowned, and she pointed at one of the tables.

"That set of remains show advanced stages of cancer; at least 40 of the bones are covered in cancerous cells." She pointed at another. "Those are the remains of three-year-old with a severe case of spina bifida."

Booth scribbled onto a notepad. "Severe enough to be fatal?"

Brennan met his eyes and gave him half a shrug. "It's possible."

"So, what are we running with here? Someone targeting sick children? Pedophile, serial killer, organ harvesting?"

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions, Booth. So far we have two very sick children out of twelve sets of remains. It could be a coincidence."

He nodded and both of them turned towards Angela as she walked up to the platform.

"What have you got?" Booth asked, seeming sympathetic to Angela's worried look.

"Four faces so far, the next ones might take me longer; the sand did a bad number on them, Zack is being really anal about cleaning them." She handed Booth the papers. "I'm already looking for these on NCIC," she informed, and her face fell as she looked at the bones on the tables. "They were so young."

Brennan nodded, wishing she could make this easier for Angela.

"At least you guys are back," the artist added with a soft smile.

††††

Booth unlocked his door to the smell of freshly delivered pizza. Loosening his tie, he threw his jacket in the direction of his couch and found Bones in the kitchen, holding Hannah with one arm and eating a slice of spinach alfredo pizza.

He dropped his file folders on the counter and reached for a slice.

"Hey," he said as he chewed on a mouthful of warm pizza.

Hannah waved her arms and kicked her legs in response to his arrival, her cheeks a healthy rosy tint from the sun earlier in the day. Bones protested the increased energy and handed him the excited baby. Booth set his half-eaten slice down and picked up Hannah. Sitting her comfortably on his knee, he resumed eating his pizza.

"Your message said Angela's portraits returned 3 matches?" Bones asked as she opened the file folders he'd dropped on the counter.

Booth nodded. "John Nathaniel, Erica Jorgensen and Eli Lorne."

Bones looked at the 'missing' posters and compared them to the pictures of the remains and x-rays. "Nathaniel is one of the oldest of the remains, probably twenty-four to twenty-six years," she pointed out. "Again, I'll know more when I get the analysis on the particulates."

Booth nodded. "Nathaniel has been missing since '81, Jorgensen since '92 and Lorne since '04."

Hannah reached for one of the file folders and started chewing on it. Bones frowned at it but didn't stop the baby, quickly shifting focus back to the papers in her hands. Booth wasn't about to interrupt Hannah either, since as long as she was entertained, he could eat.

"I'm officially back on duty," he announced. "Nathaniel and Lorne's families live in California and Jorgensen's family in Florida, so I'm flying out to interview the families," Booth started to explain, trying to gauge Bones' reaction.

"I can't go, Booth," she said defensively. "And I'm sure Dr. Saroyan agrees, with still so many remains unidentified and without any evident cause of de—"

Booth interjected. "Relax, Bones. I'm not going to make you pack your bags this time. First of all, we have Hannah; second of all, I know you're more valuable at the Jeffersonian at the moment. I would put this off until you could come with, but…"

"These families have waited long enough," Bones finished his sentence and he nodded.

"Plus," he said with a childish smile, "maybe this will give me the chance of finding something useful that might help your—" he moved his free hand around, "stuff."

"My stuff?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded. "Well, you know, you usually find the evidence, which guides my _stuff_, this time I could find some answers that may give you some insight into your _stuff_," he clarified.

She rewarded him with a full-blown smile.

* * *

**Note: Sorry, I know this is short... the chapters get longer as the story goes on, I promise :) And the smut shall start soon. **


	4. Chapter 3

**Note: Three whole chapters, guys! Trying to get as much posted as I can before my vacation next weekend...**

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Chapter 3

Cries awoke him, but they weren't coming from Hannah. They stopped abruptly, and Booth turned and looked at his alarm clock to find out what time it was.

_2:58 a.m._

Convinced the cries had just been part of a bad dream he'd already forgotten, he was almost falling asleep again when a muffled scream startled him.

_Bones…_

Rubbing his eyes, he got up and walked through Hannah's room and into Bones' side of the _quasi-_duplex. Her bedroom door was open and he saw her sleeping form thrashing in the dark. "Bones," he tried softly from his spot in the doorway. "Bones!" he tried again, wondering how Hannah was sleeping through this.

He walked towards the bed, reaching and trying to shake her out of her nightmare.

"Temperance," he said more sharply. "Wake up, Bones."

She gasped as her eyes opened. "Booth?" she sat up in her bed, confused.

He glanced down, noticing his bare chest. "I—uh… you were having a nightmare, I tried to wake you but—"

She ran her hand through her hair.

"You ok?"

She gazed up at him, looking as if she hadn't understood his question before her eyes turned so afraid that something inside his chest tightened. Finally, she nodded, glancing at the baby monitor on her nightstand. "There was smoke everywhere, and I couldn't find Hannah, and I couldn't find you… it was so hot in here. I know it was only a dream, but I felt my skin burning, you know?"

Booth knew. There were still bad nights when he could feel the broken pipes against his feet, Farsi being shouted at him, the smell of sweat and blood as real as they'd been a decade before. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. Her eyes met his and he saw his partner, scared and vulnerable. "Come on Bones, scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over," he repeated. "I have a flight in six hours, and I can't have you keep waking me up," he joked softly.

For a second he thought she was going to ask him if he was out of his mind, but she did what he said and allowed him to slide into her bed.

She turned to face away from him, and he punched one of her pillows into an acceptable shape. He wasn't good at fooling himself and he had to control the part of his anatomy that seemed to be reacting positively at the idea of sharing a bed with his partner. There was enough space between them, and as long as he maintained his current position, he figured he should be able to sleep next to her for four hours without making things awkward.

"Booth?" she said as he stared at her ceiling.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Thank you."

"No problem," he replied with a smile. "You should probably not mention this to Cullen, though."

Her soft laughter segued into steady breathing, signaling she'd fallen back asleep.

††††

"Dr. Brennan?"

Startled, Brennan pushed away the round magnifying glass and turned off the light. "Yes, Zack?"

"I have finished boiling all the remains," Zack offered. "And, since there are so many sets of remains, I found a way to number them chronologically according to our preliminary findings. I know you don't like it when I give them nicknames, but—"

Brennan turned and offered a reassuring smile at her fellow forensic anthropologist. "No, that's great Zack. It should make it much easier for us."

"So far, we have identified Two, Seven and Eleven: Nathaniel, Jorgensen and Lorne."

Brennan nodded, accepting Zack's newly labeled folders. "Thank you, Zack."

"No problem, Dr. Brennan," Zack said. "It really is great to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Zack," Brennan replied, feeling the best she'd felt since waking up next to Booth that morning.

Her day had been awful so far.

Hannah had cried when Brennan had dropped her off at the FBI Headquarters and feeling helpless was never Brennan's forte; the whole ordeal had affected her more than she thought possible.

When she'd arrived at work, she'd realized the scope of having to work with twelve sets of remains with no apparent connection other than the uncommon location of their burial. So far they had no conclusive causes of death on any of the remains, and she had quickly started to feel a wave of panic, a feeling that she was now less than what she had been before leaving for Europe.

And Booth was in the field without her—it was just more pressure than she had expected… It had taken her several minutes to finally calm down enough to see the bones in front of her again. Recognizing bones and cataloguing even the smallest of anomalies on them, one by one—it was the best way to get in touch with her old self, and it didn't take long until she felt fulfilled by her work once again.

She needed answers, and fast.


	5. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

Her phone was ringing and Brennan, with Hannah in tow, moved to her desk, avoiding the cardboard box on her floor. She reached for it with her free hand, avoiding Hannah's grabby fingers. "Brennan."

"Bones, it's me. Listen, I know it's late over there—"

She interrupted him, "No, it's only eleven, I'm still at work."

There was silence for a few seconds, "Bones—"

"It's okay, Booth. Dr. Saroyan is allowing me to keep Hannah here in my office until you return, so I can spend more time identifying the remains. Zack and Jack are putting together a new playpen so she can sleep here," then turning so the others couldn't hear her, she whispered, "They're not as good at putting together children's furniture as you are."

"Apparently experience beats intelligence when it comes to playpens, Bones," he joked, and then his tone changed. "I just got done talking to the Jorgensen family. Erica suffered from cystic fibrosis."

Brennan cradled the cell phone with her shoulder and pulled up the correct file with her now free hand. "How old was she when she disappeared?"

"Ten."

She examined the x-rays and photos of the remains. "Her bones would put her around twelve or thirteen if we were talking about normal development, but cystic fibrosis would mean she was underdeveloped. If the seventh set of remains is Erica Jorgensen, then she must have been closer to fifteen when she died."

"_If_ she is?" Booth asked, not sounding very happy.

"The dentals and facial reconstruction all match, Booth, as do nine other comparison points. Statistically, we have a match."

"Which would mean that Erica was alive for at least five years after she disappeared," Booth jumped on her train of thought.

††††

Booth walked into the Leon County PD, pulling out his badge to the receptionist. "Agent Booth with the FBI," he announced using his charm smile on the middle-aged lady.

The lady smiled back and exchanged pleasantries, but there was nothing behind it. Charm wasn't going to work on her. Booth resisted the urge to sigh – this was a case with children under twelve, therefore FBI had jurisdiction, however full cooperation from local authorities was never easy. Small town cops, in particular, tended to be quite possessive about what happened in their backyard.

"Is the sheriff in?"

"Oh Lord, no! Jack is out doing his morning rounds."

The sheriff's distance would probably make it a little bit easier to get the information he needed. He turned his complete attention to the woman, noticing for the first time the Employee of the Year award on the desk, congratulating Joan Monroe on being exemplary.

"Ms. Monroe, do you remember a little girl named Erica Jorgensen?"

"Oh yes, we all remember that. Such a tragedy!" Ms. Monroe said with sadness.

Booth nodded sympathetically. "Do you remember who was assigned to that case?"

"We all worked on that, I took hundreds of calls… Your FBI had one of those anonymous lines set up for folks to call in with tips, you know, so I came in on my days off to answer those phones. But those tips went nowhere," the receptionist lamented.

"What do you think happened to Erica?" Booth asked. Bones had told him once that in small towns, the inhabitants tend to form and maintain ideas in cohesion; therefore interrogating one individual was sometimes as useful as interrogating hundreds. It was a long shot, but Bones usually knew what she was talking about, so Booth went with it.

"I suspect her parents," the receptionist whispered in hushed tone. "They are hard-working folks, but the girl was sick since she was little, you know? I heard they owed a whole lot of money to the hospital – money they couldn't afford with their other three children, and I hear that their live-in nurse left after two _months_ of unpaid wages. I don't think they're capable of killing, but desperate people do desperate things, Agent."

Booth scribbled some of the information for future reference. He then turned back to the lady, hoping there was enough rapport now for his request. "Listen, I was wondering if I could take a look at the local case file, any witness reports and notes that might not be in the FBI files. If it's not too much trouble."

The trademark smile apparently worked this time, because Ms. Monroe smiled back and turned to her computer. She typed some information into the computer and the laser printer behind her started spitting out papers. "Well, you're FBI, I guess it can't hurt, can it now?"

Booth shook his head and accepted the inch-thick stack of papers she handed him, still warm from the printer. "You have all this?" he asked, leafing through several printed photos, statements, and case log notes.

"Our county has fully computerized case files, Agent Booth," the woman bragged, apparently not oblivious to the outsiders' notion of her county.

Booth smirked. "Cool."


	6. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Booth took a seat on the very expensive looking couch in a very expensive looking mansion in the outskirts of Orange County.

"You are here about J.T.?" Mrs. Nathaniel asked, holding on to a handkerchief so tight her knuckles had turned white.

_John Taylor Nathaniel, a.k.a. J.T._, Booth made a mental note to himself. "Yes, Mrs. Nathaniel, thank you very much for seeing me."

The older woman dabbed at her teary eyes with the handkerchief, trying to control the tears. "You found him, didn't you?"

Booth nodded.

"I knew, when you called, that you had found my boy. And since you offered to come to me, instead of the opposite, I knew--" she sobbed, "I knew he was dead."

"I am really sorry for your loss, Mrs. Nathaniel."

She offered Booth a sad smile, "It's silly, you know? The week before he disappeared, the doctors gave him six months to live. I was a wreck, and my husband still refused to stop working. He insisted there was nothing he could do. He never missed a day of work even after J.T. went missing; but I—I just never lost hope of finding my son alive. Even after the six months, even after five years had gone by, I still had hope."

"Your son was sick, Mrs. Nathaniel?" Booth asked. Three sick children out of twelve could be a coincidence, but he was pretty sure Bones would point out that four were more than a statistical anomaly.

The older woman sipped on some ice water. "Ependymoma, a type of brain cancer; he was diagnosed in April '81, four months before he disappeared. They didn't have all the treatments for cancer that they do now; after three months he was declared terminal."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Booth offered sincerely. "Is it okay if I ask you some more questions? We can do it another day if it would be better for you."

She shook her head, dabbing on more tears. "I'll be fine, Agent Booth. I've waited for answers long enough."

He nodded. "Your son was last seen on October 13th of 1981, but you did not report him missing until the 16th. Was there a cause for the long wait?" Booth asked, as delicately as he could.

"I told you my husband never left work. I almost never left this house, but I took J.T.'s diagnosis pretty badly," she admitted guiltily. "Most of those days were spent in a sedated haze. When J.T. was declared terminal, well you can imagine how I took it. I was hospitalized for an anti-anxiety drug overdose. J.T. had been home since the doctors had given up on him, but he wasn't here when I came home on the 16th."

"Was he by himself?"

"Of course not, we had in-home caregivers, plus our regular helpers."

"In-home caregivers?" Booth questioned, remembering the PD receptionist's tale of Erica Jorgensen's unhappy and underpaid live-in nurse. _Could be a lead._

The woman nodded. "We had at least two caregivers with J.T. at any time, but we rotated them so we had quite a few hired at that time. They were all questioned by the police and by my private investigators, even the ones who weren't working the night J.T. disappeared."

"Do you happen to have the private investigators' reports?"

"They didn't find much, but my lawyer has copies of everything, I can have them fax those to you."

Booth pulled out a card with the fax number for the Medico-Legal Department of the Jeffersonian Institution and handed it to Mrs. Nathaniel.

††††

"Booth," the voice on the other end of line answered.

"Hey, it's me," Brennan announced. "We got the fax regarding the investigation into Nathaniel's disappearance. They also sent a copy of his medical records. And Booth, get this: at least five more sets of remains show signs of rare diseases, from neurofibromatosis to ALS."

"Lou Gherig's disease?"

"Exactly."

"Who would kill twelve sick children?" Booth asked, and she wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question or not; he should know she would answer it either way.

"I don't think they were killed, Booth. I still haven't found an M.O. for the deaths, and the only anomalies I am finding can be explained by conventional surgery these kids probably went through. Angela has four more reconstructions done, so they might be able to give us some more insight."

"Has Hodgins been able to narrow down times of deaths?"

"I'll check on it," she promised.

"How's Hannah?"

Brennan glanced at the newly-assembled playpen, seeing Hannah's hand grab and release the mesh lining in her sleep. "Napping… she's been cranky since you left."

"Probably starting to teeth," he suggested but she recognized pride in his tone.

"Probably."

"Are you sleeping well?" Pride was quickly replaced by concern and Brennan had to fight the urge to let the walls rise faster than the speed of light.

"No," she replied dryly. Booth didn't say anything but she could hear his breath, urging more than just sincerity from her. Looking around to make sure no one was in hearing range, she finally admitted. "I sleep better when you are here, Booth," her voice was barely above a whisper and she briefly wondered if she had actually said it out loud.

"You could sleep in my bed."

Her office suddenly became extremely small and the oxygen was as rarified as it had been in Tibet. "Uh—"

"I mean, until I get back," he desperately tried to explain. "The TV should help out, find something silly—I've had my share of bad dreams, and some nights the idiot box was the only thing that kept me from losing it, you know?"

"It makes sense," she said, feeling awkward. "Maybe I'll give it a try," something in her voice broke as the idea of sleeping in Booth's bed flourished in her brain.

"I'm on my way to meet with Eli Lorne's family. I should be back tomorrow."

"Okay, Booth."

"Hey Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet dreams, okay?"

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**Note: I figured I'd leave you guys with a happy cliffhanger...**

**RL really sucks at the moment, so I'm counting on your reviews to cheer me up! Please drop me a note or two about the story, even one-liners are ok. Smiley faces, sad faces, round faces... just anything!**

**Thanks to everyone who's been reading and special thanks to those reading AND reviewing!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Three chapters again, all for you guys! I'm going away for the weekend (Farscape convention) so I might not post again until next week.**

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Chapter 6

Brennan stared at the x-rays in the lightbox but she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She'd ingested an unhealthy amount of concentrated caffeine when she'd come in, but now that it had worn off, she felt worse than before.

Hannah, who'd had a perfect night of sleep, was now pointing a crooked finger at the x-rays while chewing on her other hand. Another day, Brennan might have smiled at her daughter, but today she just felt awful.

"Bren?"

"What?!" Brennan snapped at Angela's sudden appearance, more harshly than she intended. Hannah apparently picked up on the distress, because she started to do the sobbing thing that Brennan now realized was precursor to a loud cry. Intent on avoiding that, she reached for Hannah in an attempt to calm her down.

Turning to face Angela, Brennan looked as apologetic as possible. Luckily, this was Angela, so the artist simply turned and closed the glass door to the office and sat on the couch, patting the seat next to hers. "Come on, sweetie. Tell me what's going on."

"It feels like we're not making any progress, Ange," Brennan complained as she took a seat.

Her friend smiled sympathetically. "Bren—we have twelve separate sets of remains out there that have been exposed to sand, saltwater, wind, and wildlife. I don't understand the science as much as the rest of you, but none of those things are conducive to an easy case."

"But it usually doesn't take this long," Brennan pointed out, feeling guilty as she said it. Hannah's arms were wrapped tight around her neck, and everything was so overwhelming.

Angela sighed, "You can't blame yourself, Brennan. I know what's going on inside that smart brain of yours: you're thinking that because work is no longer your first priority that it means you're no longer the best in your field, and you have lost your value. It's horsecrap, my friend; absolute horsecrap. You are still worth ten times your weight in gold; and with the lovely help of us, your worthy sidekicks, you will solve this case, do you hear me?"

Brennan couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Angela."

The artist's eyes softened as Hannah plucked a thumb into her mouth. "And you make a wonderful mom, sweetie."

"Damn it, you're going to make me cry," Brennan said, already feeling her eyes water.

"Crying is good sometimes," Angela said, handing Brennan some tissues. "Is anything else bothering you?"

Brennan couldn't contain a teary laugh. Her friend's extrasensory perception could be a gift and a curse. "Yeah, actually."

"Wanna talk about it?"

It took her a few seconds to consider the question before Brennan nodded. "I have been having nightmares; they started at the hospital and they haven't stopped."

"Oh my god, Bren!" Angela's hand reached for Brennan's hand that was resting on Hannah's back. "How often do you have them?"

Brennan shrugged. "Every night—couple times a night. Except when…" she trailed off, eyes widening, wondering how or if she should tell Angela more.

"Brennan…" Angela said in a slightly threatening tone.

"Sometimes, I don't have them. When Booth is around…"

"Like, since you've moved in together, or—" It was Angela's turn to trail off as realization sunk in, and Brennan realized with horror that it was the wrong realization.

"No, not like that, Ange. I mean, sometimes, he'll sleep with me, but it's just that – sleep. He slid into my bed a couple of times when he pulled me out of some of my nightmares… and then a couple of times we fell asleep on the couch together, and when I woke up I had bad neck pain but no nightmares. I don't know what to make of it," Brennan confessed.

"Bren, I know you hate psychology, but think about it. He makes you feel safe, so when he is within reach, your subconscious feels safe, ergo no bad dreams."

Brennan nodded slowly, realizing that it was somewhat rational and therefore acceptable. "Do you think that's why last night I had no nightmares when I slept in his bed?"

"You slept in his bed? While he's out of town?" A very skeptical and suggestive eyebrow was indicating Angela's surprise.

Brennan felt herself blushing, "He suggested it; because he has a TV, he thought the TV would help."

"Did it?" Still skeptical.

"Well, I had no nightmares."

"…but?"

"I had other dreams to keep me awake," Brennan confessed, moving a now settled Hannah back to her playpen. When she felt like her face wasn't about to spontaneously combust, she returned to face her best friend.

"Temperance Brennan, you are tired and grumpy because you spent all night having sex dreams about your partner!" Angela chided her playfully.

"Angela! Keep it down," Brennan said more seriously. "I just—I don't know what's going on, it's like we are sharing custody of Hannah, which is not a partner-like thing to do, and it's just been getting hard to ignore the other non-partner-like feelings."

Angela was grinning from ear to ear. "Has anything else happened?"

Brennan shook her head then stopped abruptly. "Well, I almost kissed him, after he rescued me from the Drau Group. I had a concussion though, so—"

"A concussion is not an excuse for an almost kiss, Bren."

"Why not?" Brennan whined.

"Trust me, I'm an expert at these things; it just isn't," Angela pointed a finger in her direction. "Promise me you'll talk to Booth about this."

"Wha—I can't, Angela!" Brennan protested.

"You don't have to tell him everything you told me, although it would be very interesting if you did," Angela said in the tone she had when her thoughts went to a very happy place. "But you should talk to him about it. The man flew halfway around the globe—hell, he risked _everything_ for you and for Hannah. And then, when he was done rescuing you, he asked you to share with him the biggest responsibility ever - to allow him to be her father."

"It's Booth, Ange. He's a good father; he's trying to save the world and everyone in it. He's just trying to rescue her too."

Angela shook her head and smiled. "Sweetheart, there are a lot of orphans out there. Hannah is special," Angela conceded, stealing a glance at the infant in the playpen. "But I think the fact that you wanted her to be your daughter made Hannah even _more_ special to him, if you know what I mean."

Brennan didn't really allow herself to fully acknowledge what Angela meant. She could ask Angela to explain herself, but the truth was that Brennan wasn't ready to deal with whatever could be causing Booth's actions.

"You don't have to tell me I'm right, though I can guarantee you it would make things easier and _so_ much more interesting if you two would admit it."Brennan's cheeks blushed and she felt more awake and scared than she'd felt in weeks.

"Oh and by the way, I came here to tell you I finished all the reconstructions, if they are all in the NCIC database, we'll find them within a couple of hours," Angela's eyes softened. "That's progress, sweetie."

††††

Booth walked into the Jeffersonian as the sun was setting. Flying to DC from California always made one feel like a bad trip in time, and tonight he felt even worse.

It didn't take him long to find Bones, sitting at her desk, typing away in deep concentration. The center of her office was now decorated with a forest green playpen and Hannah recognized him right away, standing up and voicing her content.

"Booth, you're back!" Bones exclaimed, finally noticing his presence. She pushed away from the desk and he noticed something _off_ about her greeting, almost as if she was embarrassed. It was gone in a second and he figured he had just imagined things.

Throwing the file folder he was holding at his partner, he reached for his daughter. It was refreshing to be a full-time parent, being able to hold her anytime he wanted, not having to wait for his weekend. He'd known that adopting her was the right decision, but he hadn't realized how right until now, after spending just a couple of nights away.

Bones was already thumbing through the papers he'd thrown her way. "Eli Lorne had congestive heart failure?"

He nodded. "His parents had been fighting their HMO for a transplant, but the insurance kept turning them down. Three weeks after he disappeared, they got a letter saying the procedure had been authorized," he couldn't even hide the tone of sadness in his voice, and even Bones seemed a little more emotional than her usual self.

He knew what was happening, even if she hadn't realized it herself yet. His first cases after Parker was born involving child disappearances and murders were hard; child cases were hard enough, but becoming a parent made it even harder. The recent addition of Hannah made things slightly more complicated for him, but by now he knew how to identify his own fears and isolate them from the case; he knew Bones was a fast learner, but he wondered how long it would take her to separate Hannah from every victim they saw.

Hannah was absolutely delighted as he made goofy faces at her, and he enjoyed just relaxing on the couch in Bones' office while she read the medical records he'd gotten on both Nathaniel and Lorne. "We identified all but one set of remains," she exposited. "I tried calling you but you must've been on the flight, I left you a voicemail."

Balancing Hannah on his knee, he reached for his phone and realized it was still off. Hannah tried to reach for it as he turned it back on, and after the beeps alerted him to the fact that he, indeed, had voicemails, he let her play with it. "Sorry, forgot to turn it back on. What did you find about the identified remains?"

She got up from her desk and handed him a thicker file, filled with 'missing' ads and attached to pictures of neatly arranged bones on autopsy tables he could recognize from far away. He sighed as he looked through the pictures of smiling children.

Bones took a seat next to him. "Knowing that four of the children were sick, I had Angela pull the medical files as soon as we had names. All of them were sick, Booth."

"Ok, so we know it's not a coincidence, which means these kids were targeted due to their diseases," he said, leaning back and squeezing the bridge of his nose. Hannah reached for the end of his tie, and he let her play with it, hoping she wouldn't be scared of its motif. "What are we dealing with here?"

Before he could go into full conjecture mode, Jack burst in. "Guys, you should see this!"


	8. Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

"Booth, you're back!" Angela greeted as Bones, Hannah, and he arrived at one of the many labs – he had given up on keeping track of all of them years ago.

"Hey Angela, Cam," Booth nodded to the women, ignoring Zack. Cam had some sort of surprised look on her face at seeing him holding Hannah and he forgot how new this was to the squints. To be honest, it was pretty new to him as well, but it just felt right to hold Hannah in his arms; and missing her had been second nature.

Hodgins was looking like a child with ADD, which usually meant he had discovered something big. "Ok, I finally got all the times of death down, and now that we have identified all the victims, I had the dates that the children were missing," he explained, then started one of those computer presentations they always seemed to have prepared and ready in so little time. "A pattern started to surface: first comes the still unidentified child, who I found out, died in the Fall of 1981."

"That's when J.T. Nathaniel disappeared," Booth pointed out.

Hodgins nodded. "Exactly. Now Nathaniel died in the summer of 1982."

Booth's hand covered his mouth the way it usually did when the squints pointed out evidence.

"Leyla Johnson, who suffered of neurofibromatosis, disappeared on December 26th, 1982. She didn't die until winter of 1986, which was when our fourth victim disappeared, Veronica Thompson."

"Who suffered of leukemia," Bones pointed out.

Hodgins nodded. "It goes on and on. One child goes missing, dies, and within a few weeks or months, another is abducted."

"We still have not found any indication of homicide," Bones pointed out. Meeting his eyes, she added, "I believe all these deaths are natural causes, Booth."

He considered her words for a few seconds, before regaining his resolve. "Whoever abducted Eli Lorne took away his only chance of a healthy life," he explained. "That's reason enough for the D.A. office to prosecute."

††††

Brennan walked into her home and was greeted by the wonderful aroma of mac and cheese; she was starting to really appreciate their living arrangements. Walking into the kitchen, she saw him feeding some of the mac and cheese to Hannah; she wasn't sure if it was healthy sustenance for a seven-month-old, but Hannah was delighting herself so Brennan wasn't about to ask.

"Hmm, smells good," she pointed out, helping herself to a full plate.

"I am the master of macaroni and cheese," Booth proclaimed as Hannah picked up a handful of cheesy yellow goo and threw it at him. "Thank you, Hannah," he replied sarcastically and Brennan laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks.

It tasted delicious, even rivaling Carly's. Now she was going to have to ask him for the recipe. Taking a seat at the counter so she could watch the interaction between Booth and Hannah, Brennan relaxed and ate. "Angela scanned all the medical records for all the victims, as well as all the investigation notes we got. She's trying to find anyone who might have been mentioned more than once. It will probably take a while for the scanned text to be rendered into searchable text, but her search program should hopefully give us some suspects."

Booth nodded, looking slightly impressed even after years of working with the squints.

"There are four victim families still within a hundred-mile radius of D.C.; I figure we can go talk to them tomorrow, starting with the most recent death, Willie Mancell."

"You sure you won't still be needed at the lab?"

Brennan shook her head as she chewed on a mouthful of mac and cheese. "No, Zack will be there."

Booth turned at her and smirked. "Admit it, you miss coming out of your little squint cave, going out into the field with me?"

Despite how his smirk was making something flip in her stomach, she found herself smiling back at him. "Did not!" after a second, she admitted. "Ok, maybe a little."

He held her gaze for a few seconds before returning his attention to Hannah. "Great, we'll drop Hannah off at the FBI and then go from there."

Full of mac and cheese, Brennan stood up. When she went to pick up her plate, Booth interrupted her.

"Leave it there; I'll take care of it. I'll put Hannah to sleep too, after she takes a bath," he explained as most of the baby was now covered in processed and pasteurized cheese.

She thanked him wordlessly before heading upstairs to her own domain, followed by the sounds of Hannah's laughter as Booth tickled her.


	9. Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

Brennan woke up aroused.

The night before, stomach full of mac and cheese, she'd taken a relaxing bath, confident that the fact that Booth was back and just a few walls away would keep the nightmares at bay. She'd been wrong, and something inside of her had told her to just crawl into his bed in the middle of the night like she had while he had been in California. His sleeping form hadn't acknowledged her boldness as she'd entered his room and bed, and the promise of no nightmares had allowed her to silence her inner fears and fall asleep, as far away from his warm body as his king-sized bed would allow.

Except, in the middle of the night, they seemed to have migrated and now Booth was spooning her back, and his hand was under her tank top and caressing the underside of her breast ever so slightly. She couldn't breathe, desperate to flee and even more desperate to respond to his touch as eloquently as she wanted to.

Something caught her attention, Booth's breathing pattern, a soft cadence only, slightly mirrored by the soft breathing coming from the baby monitor on his nightstand. _He's asleep_, her brain shouted at her. Which meant she could still try to untangle herself from this mess, could still pretend like his fingers touching her breast weren't the most arousal she'd felt in months, maybe years.

She couldn't move forward, because his arm was holding her in place, so she tried to push towards the foot of the bed, only to find that his knee was to the south; and what was worse is that now said knee was between her legs, and Booth's sharp intake of a breath let her know he was now awake.

His hand contracted around her breast, either voluntarily or not, and she couldn't contain a moan. Something hard was now pressing into her lower back, and she was smart enough to recognize it but it didn't stop her from shivering at the knowledge.

"Booth," she said, intending it to sound like a rational intervention, but it ended up more like a moan. It shouldn't have surprised her then that the hand on the breast moved to find her nipple, and he pinched it in a way that sent sharp bolts of pleasure straight into her core.

His wet breath enveloped the nape of her neck, and he nuzzled her hair; she rewarded him the only way she could think of, by pushing back into his erection, and it twitched in response. She moaned again, louder this time, her brain still screaming at her to run, but her nerve endings begging her to stay.

He brought his knee up more, to create more friction between her legs and she realized she was on her way to a mind-blowing orgasm.

She knew their bodies were probably just responding to the proximity of another body of the opposite sex in a semi-sexual position -- add to that the factor it had definitely been very long for her, and probably a long time for him as well, this was obviously just a reaction to the excess adrenaline and serotonin coursing through their veins…

Try as she might, she couldn't rationalize these feelings away. Her brain screamed at her to flee again, but her eyes got watery at the very idea.

"Booth," she tried again to regain some control over the situation, and she felt his erection twitch behind her again. It apparently caused it to escape the restrains of his pajama pants, because there was a hot silky hardness against her lower back now that hadn't been there seconds before.

"Bones," he moaned against her ear. "Please," he begged but didn't elaborate.

His free hand burrowed itself between her body and the mattress. It moved in slow motion, down her stomach and into the sweatpants she was wearing. When his fingers first found her clit, she moaned out loud and shouted his name.

This had been missing from her young adult life; her parents' disappearance had meant no contact with boys in cars, no discovering of the opposite sex's body in badly lit parks while dodging a curfew. She'd discovered sex much later, and it had been adult sex, the ones in beds after lengthy disclosures of sexual history, with the presence of condoms. Once she'd started it, perhaps because she hadn't been a rebellious teenager, she'd never felt the inadequacy or shame related to sex – therefore she'd always led a mature and healthy sex life.

And right now she would give up every one of those experiences, even the best of them, for the feeling of her partner dry-humping her in his king-sized bed while his fingers felt her up under her clothes.

"More," she begged, but he didn't undress them as she expected. He didn't even allow her to turn to face him when she tried to move; instead his fingers just sped up their movement against her nipple and against her clit.

She came, hard and fast, and he didn't stop touching her until her breathing had stabilized again. The hard hot pressure of him against her back informed her he hadn't come, and as she tried to push back into him, his hands stilled her hips. "We can't," he said against the nape of her neck.

Her body tensed, her mind quickly resuming its urging for her to run.

"Don't," he pleaded, still breathless. "I want this, Bones. Until this morning, I hadn't allowed myself to admit how much I've wanted this. But I also know that in two hours we have to meet with a victim's family, and if we start—" he pushed into her hip again, his breath catching in his throat, "if we start this… I don't think we'll be able to stop it."

He was being the rational one – had she woken up in another universe?

Biting her lip to keep her urges in check, she nodded. His hands left their previous positions, and he kissed the back of her neck before pulling away. "I'm gonna jump in the shower."

She turned to look at him and the desire in his eyes almost made her ignore his rational argument. Luckily, Hannah's cries through the baby monitor broke the silence.

††††

Interviewing a victim's family was always hard; interviewing four on the same night was taxing to say the least.

It relieved him to find that there was almost no awkwardness between him and Bones as they had interviewed the families of the victims; the car rides however had been painful, but he relished in the knowledge she had been as affected as he had by the morning's events. Every few minutes her cheeks would turn a deep shade of red, and she wouldn't be able to meet his eyes for a while; it never affected her side of the conversation though, she would just keep on talking about the case like she wasn't blushing like a schoolgirl.

_Ok, bad visual—well, good visual, bad timing._

"Has Angela's computer come up with any names for anyone involved with multiple victims yet?" He asked her, trying to put his thoughts back on track.

Bones pulled her phone out to check for messages then shook her head.

They were silent for a few more minutes and he kept his eyes on the road, trying to focus on both the case and driving.

"Booth, do you think we're dealing with a pedophile here?" Her voice had a fear he hadn't ever heard of before. Any stray thoughts were pushed from his minds temporarily as he met her eyes and shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. It's a possibility, sure, but pedophiles tend to favor boys or girls, usually in a certain age range. Whoever we're dealing with here has no preferences."

"They had nothing in common except for the fact they were all sick," she pointed out.

He nodded.

"The Nazis interned and killed sick people."

He considered the idea for a second before shaking his head. "No, our person is kidnapping and holding these kids for as long as they can," he pointed out. "It's like a possession, and when they lose them, they replace it with another sick child."

"In ancient times, families would do that." She explained her line of thought: "If a child died, or if the couple could not have children at all, the local tribe master or acting judiciary system would take one from another villager. It was a way to ensure survival of a family and consequently, the species, even without the genes. Animals do it too; there are countless cases of inter-species adoption," her voice trailed off.

Her rambling sent his brain into a train of thought that was almost too fast for him to keep up. "Bones, how old would you say the one unidentified victim was?"

"Well, I would say the victim was a 12 or 13-year-old male, but with this case I am not sure, Booth."

"I thought it was easier to tell the age in kids than adults?"

"Usually that is true. However, we are dealing with eleven identified victims so far, all of them with health conditions that made determining the age by the bones highly inaccurate. So going on the assumption that this twelfth victim was also sick, without knowing the disease and how it affected his bones before his death—"

"We can't know for sure how old he was when he died," Booth concluded and she nodded. "I think that's who we have to focus on, Bones. This was the only victim that had no match in the Missing Persons database…"

"You think we didn't find a match because he was never reported missing," Bones followed his reasoning.

"Well, I think that's the first possibility: that this child was never reported missing because they were never kidnapped. After his death, his parent or parents decided the pain was too great and they start abducting kids to take his place."

"Why sick kids?"

Booth shrugged, knowing his idea was still not ripe. "I don't know, maybe it's a variation of that disease where people associate with sick people, then they start making themselves or other people sick on purpose."

"Munchausen or Munchausen-by-Proxy?"

"Something like that."

"And the second possibility?" Bones asked.

"The second possibility is that we didn't identify the victim because he was abducted too you, so any photos in the Missing Persons database wouldn't have matched Angela's reconstruction."

Bones shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Angela's software doesn't look for just what the individual face appears to the eye - it's more about the underlying facial structure as a whole. For the database photos not to match up, the markers would have to be inaccurate due to missing bones, plastic surgery, or heavy trauma," she explained.

Booth conceded the point. "Ok, so we stick with the first possibility, or maybe a third one I haven't though of yet," he reasoned. "Either way, we have a picture of our unidentified victim. Might be too old, but maybe someone will remember him as their fifth grade buddy or old neighbor."

Bones's bottom lip stuck out in the way it usually did when he had a non-stupid idea that she figured they should try.

"I had the FBI check for any missing children that were sick before disappearing, but nothing came up," Booth added off her look.

"Do you think there's another child?"

Booth shrugged. "It's possible."

They rode the rest of the way to the Jeffersonian in silence.

* * *

**Note: Your feedback last time really helped me deal with RL issues, so I want to thank everyone again! You all rock!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Note: Sorry it took me so long to post again, my trip was awesome but incredibly exhausting! I have another convention coming up in 8 days, so I'll try to finish posting this by then! Your lovely reviews kept me quite content while I was away, so thank you:)**

* * *

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Chapter 9

"I'm sorry, guys but my program came up with no relevant matches," Angela announced when they entered her office.

"Any _ir_relevant matches?" Booth asked, trying not to feel defeated.

"Seven names were present in more than one file: four FBI agents, two sheriff deputies and one private investigator."

"So the answer is no," Booth added, this time not resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Bones had her hands on her waist and he could see she was growing as frustrated as he was. He followed Bones to her office, and she went straight to her desk, undoubtedly seeking the reassurance of her own domain.

He sat down across from her, putting his feet up on her desk and ignoring the disapproving glance she threw his way. "Ok, Bones, we still have our unidentified victim to follow as a lead."

"Doesn't that bother you, Booth? That our only lead out of 12 victims is the one we haven't identified yet?"

He nodded. "It bothers me, but I'm surprised it's bothering you," he pointed out.

The defensive walls went up. "Booth--"

"Sorry, I'm not accusing you of having actual emotions about this case, Bones," he said trying to keep his tone light and when her phone rang he felt relieved.

"Brennan," she answered professionally. "Yes, this is her," her features quickly changed and Booth felt his hands sweating. It couldn't be good news – he hadn't ever seen his partner look as pale as she did now. "What?-- Where?-- Georgetown University Hospital?"

_Please let this be regarding this case,_ his mind repeated over and over even though he had never seen Bones like this.

"We'll be on our way," she replied curtly to the caller before hanging up. When her eyes met his, he knew there was no chance this was regarding their case. "It's Hannah. She's at the hospital."

††††

"I'm here for Hannah Booth," Brennan announced breathlessly to the admittance desk clerk who just looked at her blankly.

"Hannah Booth," Booth repeated.

"Please have a seat, I will—"

Brennan didn't have to reach across the desk to hurt the clerk because Booth pulled out his FBI badge, loudly announcing his employment status as a government agent. A short Asian woman wearing a stethoscope around her neck showed up, undoubtedly due to the small scene Booth was causing. "Mr. Booth, Mrs. Booth, I am Dr. Shi. Hannah is ok, you can see her if you follow me."

"It's Dr. Brennan," Brennan explained, really not in a passive mood. "And what happened?" she asked as they followed the Doctor.

"I apologize, Dr. Brennan," the doctor replied politely. "Hannah was brought in by one of the daycare workers with a fracture to her left arm."

"How the hell did she break her arm?" Booth asked, apparently as mad as she felt."I'm sorry, I am not sure," the doctor answered sympathetically.

"Greenstick or compound?" Brennan asked.

"Greenstick," the doctor replied, obviously impressed by Brennan's knowledge. "It'll have healed in a week tops," the doctor explained as they finally arrived at the bed where Hannah was being kept. "I'll process her release papers," she informed them and turning to Brennan she added softly, "you can hold her if you want, she's on some mild painkillers and I'll write a prescription for some of the same drops. But she'll be fine."

Brennan hardly heard a word as she looked at Hannah, an oversized bright purple cast adorning her left arm and softly dozing. Booth's arm covered her shoulder in reassurance, even though his breathing pattern was as altered as hers. She reached for Hannah, carefully lifting her up and carefully examining the cast.

It took Brennan a few minutes to calm down. This was all too new, and her brain kept repeating that it had just been a greenstick fracture, but the rest of her just felt an irrational guilt for not having been there for Hannah when it had first happened.

Someone cleared his throat behind them. "Hi, I'm John, I was Hannah's nurse assistant, just need to clean up a little," he explained as he entered the small area and started to pick up discarded items from the floor. "She was a real sweetheart, wouldn't stop crying at first but she calmed down and let them put the cast on without a fight," he explained with a smile.

"Thank you," Booth replied politely and sincerely.

Brennan nodded, trying not to let the tears fall as the young man finished working. As he left, it was like something in her brain went off. "Booth!"

He frowned. "What?"

She walked away towards a less busy area of the Emergency Room. "There is one thing linking those twelve children: they were sick. Sick children go to hospitals," she explained, trying to reach for her cellphone without disturbing her sleeping daughter.

"We checked that angle, remember? Angela's search program?" Booth said, taking Hannah so she could find her phone more easily.

"No, we checked for interviewed personnel at the hospital," she clarified. "Look at this place, Booth!" she pointed towards the main desk hub. "It's filled with people. Volunteers, janitors, those clown people – all of them who have access to patients. Their names would never make it onto charts, and police probably never interviewed anyone except those who worked very closely to the patients – or those under enough suspicion."

"So we should check with the hospitals and see if they keep logs of visitors, volunteers, cleaning crew," he said as his hand held Hannah in place on his shoulder. "It's worth a shot," he added with a tired smile.

She dialed Angela on the phone, hoping her friend wouldn't mind a late-night at the lab too much.


	11. Chapter 10

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Chapter 10

Booth dropped Brennan and Hannah off when they got home so he could work on getting the hospital logs and fill Hannah's prescriptions.

Brennan felt guilty about not being at the lab or doing legwork with Booth, but Hannah had woken up in the middle of the ride home and had been inconsolable.

Someone at the FBI daycare was going to be dealing with two very angry parents in the morning, both of whom were excellent marksmen. The rational side of hers told her that greenstick fractures were common amongst children, and more often than not accidental in nature. Now that she was home and Hannah was not at risk, she started to feel bad about her behavior towards the hospital staff earlier; yet something inside of her still felt like kicking something.

Brennan moved around Hannah's room, patting her daughter's back and trying to calm her down. Realizing this method was not effective, Brennan sat down on the rocking chair and set Hannah on her leg, looking down into the teary eyes. "I know this is frustrating, Hannah."

Hannah sobbed but the loud crying stopped, at least momentarily. The sharp blue eyes were looking at her, begging and trusting Brennan to make it all better. Brennan tried to think, tried to remember anything that had ever been said to her about parenting and comforting.

"Oh, I know!" she told Hannah and the sobbing turned into mild curiosity. "One time Parker was sick, and your father told him a story. I can do that… I can tell a story," she affirmed.

††††

Booth entered his house, leaping two stairs at a time to Hannah's room. He'd felt slightly guilty at leaving Bones alone with a hysterical Hannah, but he'd also had a feeling that if he suggested she be the one to go to the pharmacy, she wouldn't have been able to leave Hannah.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the second floor was the lack of crying. And then he heard Bones' voice. He stopped just short of the door, listening to his partner's words.

"…and then I realized that the bones had suffered advanced demineralization, therefore the pressure required to break the ulna and radius were not what I had originally calculated."

Booth had to stifle a laugh. He finally entered the room and noticed that Hannah was staring up at Bones, completely involved in the story.

"I'm telling her a story," Bones explained awkwardly.

Booth smiled and opened up the medication that he'd picked up. After counting up the right amount of medicine in the eyedropper, he brushed Hannah's hair until her attention shifted to him.

Relieved that Hannah didn't spit out the medicine, he put the medicine away. "You're doing wonderful," he reassured Bones, "just try to keep the really gory details out, will ya? We don't need her first words to be decomposing tissue."

Booth bent down to kiss Hannah goodnight, the soft hair feeling incredibly calming after a stressful day. When he pulled back, Brennan was smiling one of her rare smiles, just a mere inch away from his face; he really couldn't help but to press his lips against hers. They felt incredibly soft, softer than he'd imagined.

He should've known she'd be the one to deepen the kiss; Temperance Brennan could be accused of many things but not shyness. He should've pulled back, but instead he just let her tongue brush against his. Her mouth pulled at him, as demanding and needy as he felt.

It was only the memory of their daughter between them that kept Booth from taking things further. Using every last ounce of his willpower to break the kiss, and he reveled in how Bones moaned at the loss.

Her eyes were deep pools of desire and promises. "Booth…" she started to say breathlessly and he couldn't help but touch his lips to hers again.

"Bones—," he answered, eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Not for kissing you, but I meant what I said this morning: we won't be able to stop. And right now we have a lot going on, so how about you put Hannah to sleep and then come meet me in my bedroom?"

"… and then what?" her voice was filled with such a perfect balance of naiveté and sensual curiosity that he almost gave up.

"And then we talk," he whispered against her mouth, before pulling back and heading for a cold shower – his second one of the day.


	12. Chapter 11

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Chapter 11

"We… can't—," Booth attempted to protest, but he wasn't trying very hard because the warm body of his partner was straddling his torso, and her mouth was doing wonderful things to his.

"Booth, shut up," she demanded after they broke apart for air.

"—nee… _guh_… oh god!" he exclaimed as her center pressed down on his third erection in less than 24 hours. It had to be a record for a 35-year-old, he was sure of it. "… need… talk… _stop that_," he moaned, not sure if he was talking to Bones or his own hips, which had apparently gained a mind of their own and decided to match her grinding with some thrusting.

She pulled back, and - god forgive him - she pouted. "I'm not good at talking, Booth."

He noticed the way her nipples were poking through her white tank top, and he had to force himself to swallow the overwhelming desire to taste them. "You talk all the time, half the time I can't stop you from talking, Bones."

"I'm not good at talking about relationship stuff," she admitted.

"This is too soon," he explained, not used to being the rational one in their partnership. "You are a fast thinker, Bones, but when it comes to relationships, you tend to take a long time adjusting. I'm willing to give you the time to think this through and make sure this is what you want… that you won't run."

The single tear that ran down her face almost killed him, and he couldn't stop himself from sitting up and tasting it.

"I'm sorry, I want this as much as you do, and you are not storming out of here because somewhere, in that _gorgeous_ brain of yours, you know I'm right," he pointed out.

It was insane – he wanted her so much, and the wait was going to kill him… but at the same time, there was this rational voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Bones; and that voice told him that he couldn't risk their partnership, their friendship, and, more importantly, Hannah, if she wasn't ready.

It felt like he couldn't breathe until she finally nodded against his neck. He lay back down, and she started to pull away, moving to get off the bed but he pulled her back. "Stay," he asked softly. He didn't want her to have nightmares, and despite his over rationalization, he didn't want to sleep alone.

She didn't say anything as she took what was quickly becoming her spot in his bed, and he spooned up against her back, feeling a lot of the day's tension dissipating.

††††

Brennan still felt irrationally guilty about Hannah's injury. Her anger towards the daycare was less prevalent after several hours had passed, but she still refused to drop Hannah off until Booth or herself had a clear idea of what had caused the incident.

"That is the _cutest_ cast ever!" Angela proclaimed when she saw Hannah's arm. "Oh my god, you guys! Look at it! It's purple."

Brennan smiled and handed Hannah over to Angela, whose fascination with the cast was not likely to end anytime soon.

"What do you have, Hodgins?" Booth asked, hands on his waist.

"Flowers," Jack announced proudly.

"And silk," Angela backed her significant other up while she played with Hannah, soon noticing something amiss. "Is she high?"

"Baby codeine," Brennan explained.

"Fun," Hodgins added with a smirk.

"Ok, squints, focus here," Booth pointed at himself. "Please tell me you didn't wake me up for just flowers."

"Or silk," Brennan added.

Jack sighed. "When will you guys learn that there's no such thing as _just_ flowers?" shaking his head, he continued. "I was analyzing the particulates and found evidence of pollen with all the bodies, which I thought was ordinary at first, until I found out they were _Agrostemma githago_," Jack paused.

Even Brennan wasn't able to follow this particular train of thought, "Ok, I'll chew."

"Bite, Bones, bite," Booth corrected her before turning towards Jack. "What's so important about this flower, Hodgins?"

"They're corncockle, one of the most endangered species in the world. _Incredibly_ rare in the U.S. – and get this, the scraps of silk I found weren't from clothing, they were for the flowers."

Brennan's mouth opened as she processed the information. "These bodies weren't just disposed of, Booth. They were buried, with rare, expensive flowers."

Her partner met her eyes and nodded. "Florists," he announced. "Florists have access to hospitals."


	13. Chapter 12

**Note: Here we go again, 3 more chapters... and there's still a cliffhanger! Thank you for the wonderful feedback, guys. I've been lazy about reviewing my beta-ed files but I forced myself to do it today... And now I'll only need to do Chapters 15, 16 and the Epilogue, so I should be able to finish posting this by my next trip (which is next weekend).**

**Also, I finished writing 'Something Rotten' and this a long time before I read any spoilers for Season 3, and long before the whole "rare flower, find a florist, find the murderer" deal from last week's episode-- just in case anyone's wondering :)**

* * *

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Chapter 12

Brennan hung up the phone, gasping as Hannah almost knocked over a priceless artifact with her cast. Angela's lips formed a perfect 'o', quickly feeling guilty.

"Sorry," the artist added meekly, handing the baby back to Brennan and sitting across from the desk.

Brennan maintained her glare for a few more seconds before melting again and letting Hannah play with her necklace.

"So what's going on with you and Booth, my friend?"

"What do—How do—?" Brennan couldn't finish her questions, feeling her cheeks starting to burn. "The phone call this morning," she deduced.

"I called you and for the first time in years, you don't answer right away… then I call Booth's phone and you pick up?" Angela's eyes were twinkling with joy and Brennan couldn't contain a smile in return.

"It's not what you think," Brennan insisted. "Not exactly."

"Bren, Bren, Bren…"

"I don't really feel comfortable talking about this," Brennan said, almost apologetic.

"It's _me_, Angela, your best friend. We've had conversations like this dozens of times before."

Brennan sighed. She had never been ashamed of sex as a topic, but this was Booth. Fighting her own discomfort, and knowing that Angela was usually quite insightful when it came to relationships, Brennan related to her friend a short version of the past thirty-six hours.

She'd expected loud commemorative noises from Angela, but instead Angela's mouth just hung open for a very long time.

"Ange? Say something…" Brennan pleaded, rocking Hannah back and forth in a nervous gesture.

"It's just—I'm surprised, well, not really surprised, but-- sweetie, you're telling me you and Booth got to third base?!" Angela finally spoke, seeming electrified by the news.

Brennan frowned. "I don't know what that means."

"Third base is when—you know what, I think we are a little too old for this conversation, so I'm going to leave this particular explanation for another day." Angela said with a straight face. "This is so awesome," she added with a dreamy look.

"Angela," Brennan sighed, "I don't know what to do…"

Angela's eyes were filled with sympathy. "What do you want?"

The blush was back in full force.

"Besides that," Angela chided her playfully.

"I don't know."

"You love him, don't you?"

Brennan considered the question for a while, even though Angela had probably meant it as a rhetorical question. "I want to say yes, but rationally I can't answer. Emotions are too volatile for me to measure with any certainty."

Angela smiled. "That is such a Bren answer… okay, let me change the question slightly: do you love me?"

"Of course I do, you're my best friend," Brennan answered, feeling almost offended that Angela would ask.

"So we have established that you can, in fact, answer whether or not you love someone," Angela explained. "I know you love Booth, you know you love Booth – what you _don't_ know, is if you love him enough."

Brennan moved Hannah to her shoulder, cradling her close and paying close attention to Angela's words.

"You're a scientist—so look at the facts, sweetie: you two are partners, friends. You're sexually attracted to one another, you bicker like a married couple, you're living together and you share a daughter."

"We're complete opposites," Brennan protested. "He's all about gut feelings and I'm not!"

"Exactly!" Angela exclaimed and Brennan felt confused. "Compatibility is more than just similarities; it's about disparities as well."

"But how do you know where you should be the same and where you should be different?"

"You don't _know_ these things," Angela explained. "You have to go with it, you have to try. Sometimes you find out you were wrong after a week; sometimes it's ten years. But if you're lucky, you go your whole life: that's when you know you were right. If it makes things easier for you, think of it as an experiment, sweetie."

Brennan couldn't help but smile at her best friend.

"I'll tell you what – as soon as we crack this case, Hodgie and I will babysit Hannah, so you and Booth can figure this out together, okay?"

"Are you sure, Ange? I mean, I don't want to impose or—"

"Are you kidding?" Angela asked with a conspiratorial smile. "Guys think babies get women hot, but it's totally the opposite. Being near kids makes them want to plant the seed."

Brennan shook her head and laughed.

††††

Booth was on a mission as he entered the J. Edgar Hoover Daycare Center.

"Oh! Age—Agent Booth," a young daycare assistant stuttered when she saw him. "How's Hannah doing?" her concern was evident.

"Broken arm," he offered, still maintaining his tone and posture.

"We were so sorry when it happened," the young girl continued to plead as Beth, the director of the daycare, appeared with a crying toddler.

"Here, Krissy, take Johnny, he's a little hungry. I'll talk to Agent Booth," Beth said as she handed the toddler to the younger woman. When they were both out of earshot, Beth extended a courteous hand to Booth. "Beth Topofsky, I'm—"

Booth interrupted her. "Director of this daycare, I know. We met four years ago when I dropped my son Parker her for a few days while his mother was out of town," he explained.

The woman offered him a smile, and it was obvious to Booth she was scared and worried – which was totally expected considering just how angry he was and how likely a lawsuit could be in a case like this. "I am sorry, but I have met a lot of parents over the years. I remember Parker now, lovely child. He must be five now, correct?"

Booth nodded but continued to make clear he was impervious to the ass kissing.

"We are extremely sorry about what happened to Hannah," she continued, tone and timbre changing slightly but enough for his senses to pick up on it. "It was lunch time, so we were a little busy," Beth explained, "Hannah was getting her diaper changed by Emily when another kid, a three-year-old, started having a grand mal seizure. Emily didn't have the table straps secured, so when she rushed to help the sick toddler, Hannah turned and fell," Beth explained.

Booth felt the anger rushing through him at the idea anyone had left his child unattended; unfortunately, along with the anger he also felt sympathy towards the sick child, and more importantly, the child's parents. If Hannah or Parker had been the ones having the seizure, he would've preferred that the daycare employees tending to them rather than a healthy child with a dirty diaper.

Beth seemed to be growing more nervous by the minute as she added, "We have let Emily go, and our current employees are going through extensive safety training, including the mandatory use of safety straps. I know it doesn't help Hannah, but I hope you and Dr. Brennan don't pull Hannah out of the daycare."

Before he could answer, his phone rang. He turned around, recognizing the FBI switchboard's phone number and answered the call. "Booth."

"Agent Booth, this is Seth Atherton with Behavioral Analysis. We found something regarding your current case you might want to see."

"Be there in five minutes," Booth replied before flipping his phone shut. He turned back towards the daycare director, "I am sorry but I have to go up to BAU regarding my current case. Dr. Brennan and I need to talk before we make any decisions," he explained before making his way towards the elevators.


	14. Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

"I've got a name!" Booth announced from the door to her office.

"Beatrice Felder?" Brennan watched as Booth's excited face turned into defeat.

He walked over to her desk and dropped the papers unceremoniously on it. "Okay, it took the FBI an unimaginable amount of manpower to find a single florist with access to all the victims – how the hell did _you_ find her?

Brennan, still sitting at her chair, pointed at her computer screen. "Our suspect had to have ties to that beach," she began to explain, feeling the temperature rise several degrees as Booth placed one hand on the back of her chair and one hand on her desk to read the screen. "I—uh, know someone at a library in Elizabeth City, and I had her pull up newspapers from '60 until '81. She found t--that."

Booth was apparently oblivious to the fact that his proximity was causing her distress, because he began to read the article out loud, "Henry Felder's ashes were spread today over the rising tide, twenty miles north of Manteo. He leaves behind his wife of fifteen years, Beatrice, and his seven-year-old son, Matthew. 'I know he is in a better place,' said his wife in tears. Mr. Felder had rapidly-progressing multiple sclerosis, and his vibrant flower shop on Fifteenth Street will be missed by many in our community."

Brennan nodded, still slightly flushed. Did he _always_ stand this close? Was he being unprofessional? Was she being unprofessional? For the first time in a long time, Dr. Temperance Brennan had no answers. "What do we do now?" she hadn't meant for it to sound like a proposition; hopefully Booth had a better grip on his hormones than she currently had on hers.

The shrilling of his cell-phone caused both of them to jump apart, and she focused on her computer screen to get her breathing back under control. She watched, from the corner of her eye, as Booth wrote down some information that the called was giving him and hung up. "Where's Hannah?" He asked, looking around her office.

"Angela has her, she said something about a test drive," Brennan explained.

"Good, let's make sure she'll be okay watching Hannah for a few hours."

"Hours?" Brennan asked with a frown.

Booth nodded. "An eight-month-old boy with AIDS named Jason Orzog was abducted from a Georgia hospital two days ago; hospital logs show Felder delivered flowers to that hospital the day he went missing."

††††

Booth was maintaining an eye on the seemingly deserted flower shop in Mateo, North Carolina, while they waited for back-up. They had parked the SUV on a nearby corner, trying to appear inconspicuous.

"Booth," Bones stage-whispered next to him. "We haven't picked out Hannah's guardian, Booth."

"Do you really want to talk about this now?" He asked in disbelief.

Bones nodded. "Well, yeah, what if we get shot by Felder?"

"We won't get shot, okay?" Booth explained, trying to maintain his patience.

"You can't know that for sure," Bones argued.

Booth took a deep breath. "Bones, I'll tell you what – we'll have this discussion _after_ we finish this case, ok?"

She was quiet for a few seconds, before changing the subject. "Do you think Felder is in there?" she asked, pointing at the building. "The place looks like it's been closed down for years."

Booth shrugged, "I don't know, I've seen people holed up in worse places."

"She lost everything, Booth."

He glanced over at his partner, who was looking more emotional than she usually did.

"She had a husband and a son, and she lost them both."

"It doesn't change the fact that she's kidnapped eleven—twelve children now," Booth pointed out. Then he seemed to realize what the issue was. "Do you think that's what you and I did with Hannah? Kidnapped her?"

"Isn't it?" a single tear ran down her face and he wiped it with his hand, before holding her chin so he could look into her eyes.

"We _saved_ Hannah, Bones. She had no family left, and her life was in danger. We broke the rules, but only because there was no other way. Beatrice Felder took away these parents' chance to say goodbye – that's unforgivable."

Bones closed her eyes and nodded, even though he knew her enough to know there was still a small war waging inside her beautiful mind. He wanted to pull her closer, to comfort her, but he forced himself to pull his hand back as he saw FBI and sheriff vehicles approaching.

It was time.


	15. Chapter 14

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Chapter 14

"FBI, open up!" Booth yelled. Ten seconds later, he motioned for two agents to break it down.

Bones was right next to him as they entered the abandoned flower shop. Her hand touched his arm as she pointed out a backroom. Booth followed her into the room as agents and local law enforcement filled up the former store armed with Kevlar and mag-lites.

He watched as Bones snapped some latex gloves. "These are freshly planted," she pointed at the neat rows of flowers in diverse stages of development.

"Are you sure, Bones?" He asked her. The look she gave him would've scared lesser men. "It looks like no one's been here for years," he insisted, looking at the cobwebs covering a very dirty window.

She didn't even look at him as she pressed a switch and the room was filled with purple lighting. "I thought the electricity had been disconnected for years…" she pointed out.

"It has," Booth replied, pointing his flashlight at one of the artificial lights and trying to follow the wiring. "Generator?" he wondered out loud and his partner nodded. He raised his finger to his mouth as he began to softly tap the ground, looking for a hollow board or anything that indicated a trapdoor.

He was so focused on his task that he didn't notice Bones' proximity until she reached for his arm. Redirecting his attention to her, he noticed as she pointed at one of the walls that was covered in newspaper clippings of engagements, obituaries and births – the type of events that caused people to send flowers. Bones' grip on his arm tightened and he noticed that she wasn't pointing at the newspaper clippings but at a small sliver of white light that was coming from _behind_ the wall.

Booth motioned to some of the other agents, and he pushed Bones behind him before she could protest. The fake wall gave in easily as they broke past it, but the small hidden room was disappointedly empty except for a small generator and several mementos strewn around: photo albums, more newspaper clippings and gardening books.

Using a pen, he pushed through a pile of books, covering his mouth as dust rose around them. "They're not here," he said, putting his pen back in his pocket.

Bones nodded. "This generator is only powerful enough to maintain the ultraviolet light for the flowers, and this light in here" she indicated, "it's not powerful enough to maintain home appliances."

"There is no home address for Felder," he pointed out, feeling anger starting to take its course. "We need to find her, Bones."

Bones' gloved fingers seemed to find something in the mess, "Look at this, Booth," she pointed at one of the pictures in a dusty album.

Booth approached his partner. It took only a quick glance at the photo of a happy family on a beach for him to recognize where the picture had been taken. Behind the Felders was an RV. "I think we found out why there's no home address for Beatrice Felder," he added.

"Do you think she's back at the beach?" Bones asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We need to get there, _now!_" he said, feeling adrenaline running through his veins. "If Felder sees we dug up the others, she'll run," he explained to his partner as he quickly moved back to the front of the shop.

††††

They surrounded the RV around dusk; the red and blue of the patrol cars' lights reflecting off the metal around the outside of the Winnebago that had seen much better days.

Brennan stood next to her partner as he coordinated with other agents on the best course of action. Her arms were crossed as she stared at the covered windows of the recreational vehicle.

"Listen, Bones, I need you to stay back on this one," Booth told her as the others stepped away.

She glared at him, wordlessly telling him he wasn't about to win this particular squabble.

"I'm serious, Temperance," he tried again, obviously attempting to get ahead by using her first name.

"Booth--"

He cut her off, "No, Bones, this is a hostage situation. For once, I need you to trust me and do as I say."

Brennan sighed, feeling anger starting to do its damage but she nodded, moving towards one of the surveillance vans that they were setting up.

"Thermal imaging shows one adult, one infant inside the RV," a young man with horn rimmed glasses explained to Brennan. "I'm Jonas Willows, we've worked together on a few cases."

Brennan forced a small smile at the younger agent, realizing Booth was right about her self-isolation when it came to working with people other than him and the squints. She stared at the screen, watching as the multicolor figures on the screen moved slowly.

Booth's voice was distant as he demanded a crisis negotiator ASAP.

Hannah filled her mind and Brennan wondered if it would always be like this, the face of her daughter replacing every victim out there; how could Booth do this, day after day? Brennan thought of the future; she imagined her daughter growing up, school plays, ballet classes, and driving lessons. Then she imagined Booth being taken out of the picture, Hannah being taken away as well.

She was up and running towards her partner in seconds.

"Booth!" she shouted, effectively getting his attention.

"Bones, we talked about--"

She cut him off, "I know, I know, but I think I can reason with Beatrice Felder. Let me talk to her," she explained.

He shook his head, "No way, we have a _trained_ hostage negotiator on his way here."

"Booth, I can do this," she insisted.

"We're talking about a mentally unstable woman here, Bones. I'm not letting you go in there," Booth argued back.

"Exactly, Booth! She's mentally unstable; this guy won't be able to reason with her. We push her too hard, she might react unpredictably. I know what to say, and I need you to trust me on this. Let me go in there," Brennan's fingers reached for his in the setting darkness, the feather light touch communicating more than their words ever could. "Please, Booth."

His eyes held hers for what felt like forever, both oblivious to the multitude of busy agents amassing around them. Finally, he gave her the slightest of nods, "I'll see what I can do," he promised.


	16. Chapter 15

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Chapter 15

The steps creaked as she moved, announcing Brennan's entrance. Booth's breathing was steady in her ear through the transmitter he'd insisted she wear. There were plotted plants all over, covering every possible surface in the small trailer.

"Mrs. Felder?" Brennan asked, moving past the small kitchen towards the back. Cries reached her ears and Brennan tried not to think of how much they sounded like Hannah's cries. "Beatrice?" Brennan tried again, moving closer.

"Where are they?" the older woman asked, appearing at the door to the bedroom area. Beatrice Felder was in her sixties, her conservative hair was pristine white and her face was wet with tears as she held the crying infant. "Where are my children?"

"We had to take them, Beatrice," Brennan explained. Booth's voice in her ear offered her words to feed the woman in front of her. "They're safe, I promise."

"You took them from me," the woman shouted angrily, and the infant in her arms, distressed by the situation, started to cry louder.

"We had to, Beatrice. I had to find out what happened to them."

"Why?!"

"It's my job," Brennan offered in reply. "I'm a forensic anthropologist, I work with the FBI."

"What's a forensic anthropologist?" The woman asked, wiping her own tears.

"I work with bones," Brennan explained, hearing Booth's advice to keep her answers simple. "Beatrice, we need to take Jason back to his parents."

Felder looked panicked, taking one step back every time that Brennan tried to come closer. "I can't give him up," Felder cried out. "He's mine now!"

"No, he's not, Beatrice. He has parents who are worried about him," Brennan said softly.

The older woman shook her head vehemently. "No, they don't love him, not like I do. I heard them arguing in the hallway, they regretted having him. All of them didn't deserve my babies, always complaining about the medical bills, and the stress and the unfairness of it all."

"They loved their children, Beatrice. Sometimes people say things they don't mean, because they're under pressure. But they were good people," Brennan clarified. "Like you. I know you meant well, Beatrice, but you need to turn yourself in."

The woman sobbed now, reaching for one of the flowers and touching it with her free hand.

"You're strong," Brennan said with honesty. "You watched these kids die, time and time again, going through pain that most people could not survive. And then you buried them, with flowers, on this beach."

"It was Hank's favorite place in the whole wide world," the woman smiled for the first time. "We would sit and watch the sun rise there, and it would be so easy to forget about everything else, you know?"

Brennan nodded, feeling her eyes start to dampen up. "I need you to hand me Jason, Beatrice. There are a lot of people out there who would be willing to hurt you in order to get Jason back to his family; I'm asking you not to let them hurt you," Brennan reasoned with Booth's assistance.

"They won't take care of him," Felder insisted, shaking her head.

"I promise he'll be okay," Brennan held out her arms. "I have a baby daughter, just a few weeks younger than him. I know you just want to keep him safe, and you need to know he has medications he needs to take. He is going to be really sick if we don't take him with us to a hospital soon," she carefully explained.

Beatrice Felder was shaking as she started to hand Brennan a crying Jason. "I never hurt any of them; I never caused them harm."

Brennan bit the inside of her lip as she nodded. "I know, Beatrice," she agreed as she grabbed hold of the baby. "I am going to go out now with Jason, I need you to come out after me," Brennan explained.

The older woman nodded in tears.

"Can you hold your hands up, Beatrice?" Brennan asked, realizing that there were several health conditions that could affect the older woman's muscle-skeletal structure.

"I think so," the woman replied.

"Good," Brennan offered with a sad smile, cradling the crying infant close to her as she made her exit.

††††

He stood in the background as Bones handed over the hostage to an EMT. She slowly made her way back to him, a sad smile on her face and he wished there weren't so many people around them so he could wrap his arms around her.

"You did well, Bones," Booth reassured her.

"I lied to her, Booth," Bones blurted out.

"You did what you had to do."

She shook her head, "I should've told her the truth; that her kidnapping those kids and keeping them away from their families and their doctors hurt them."

"But she never intentionally hurt them," Booth argued softly. "The truth isn't always black-and-white. Sometimes, you have to stand in the gray areas, or you'll lose your mind and your faith."

"I'm not religious," she replied.

"Not that kind of faith; I meant your faith in humanity."

Bones closed her eyes and nodded slowly, and this time Booth didn't resist the urge to touch his lips to her forehead. "What do you want to do?"

She sighed against his neck, sending shivers down his body. "Get Hannah, get food, and get some sleep – in that order."

Booth smiled. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure this was the first time he'd ever heard Temperance Brennan wanting to get some sleep. "We can sleep in tomorrow, it's Saturday," he promised her, "Jason Orzog is safe, Beatrice Felder is in custody – Cullen can wait until Monday for our case notes."

She let him keep his arm around her as they walked towards the SUV.

* * *

**Note: There it is, now I only need to "tie up" the Booth/Brennan situation. I know this case had a lot of setup, and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint those expecting a more climactic ending :) **


	17. Chapter 16

**Note: I'm sorry I took so long to post the ending... in a way, I didn't want this journey to end. Plus real life has been crazy! Anyway, here it is... Chapter 16 and the Epilogue. I hope it lives up to your expectations.**

**Special thanks to everyone who stuck with me through Something Rotten and this :)**

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Chapter 16

"Should I start calling you Seeley?" Bones asked him, the face she was making was one she usually reserved for especially gruesome corpses.

They were out. Having dinner. Together. They hadn't even talked the night before as they'd picked up Hannah from the Jeffersonian, and then rode home. She'd been true to her words, letting him tuck Hannah in after a bath – which proved to be troublesome without getting her cast wet -, while Bones herself crawled into his bed in a tank top and underwear, and passed out. It had taken him all of his willpower not to wake her up; he simply crawled in with her when he was done and lay there, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring his body's demands for her…

.. which brought them here today, to a fancy restaurant, on one of his most awkward dates ever.

"Do you want to call me Seeley?"

She shrugged. "I don't think so," she admitted.

"Then don't," he concluded and she rewarded him with a smirk. "And I'll keep calling you Bones," he added, enjoying the way her face changed into a slight pout.

She apparently had recognized defeat on that particular field because she just changed subject. "Angela's talking about having kids. Apparently babysitting Hannah has changed her views on children. But she wants to adopt as well."

Booth chuckled. "Hodgins has enough money to adopt half the orphans in Haiti."

Bones smiled - a full smile this time and he felt his pants becoming tighter. _Whose idea had it been for them to go out? Oh right, Angela's._ Booth groaned silently and moved in his chair to readjust himself slightly.

"This is awkward," Bones said, chewing on ravioli. "I'm sorry, was that out of line?"

Booth shook his head, "No, you weren't. This is pretty awkward."

Bones swallowed her food and stared at him, "Did we miss our chance, Booth?"

He moved closer to her over the table, and she met him halfway. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well," she started to say, obviously considering her words which she didn't do often. "_Someone_ told me once that two people, they have this window of opportunity to… well, be together. Is it this awkward because we're past that point? Are we too good at being friends and partners that--"

He silenced her by pulling her into a kiss, atop their dinners. He could taste the lipstick she was wearing, but once her tongue met his he could only taste _her_. He broke apart when the kiss became too much considering their current scene, instantly missing the feel of her lips against his. "See? The only point we might be past is public decency if we don't stop this now," he pointed out, slowly pulling back until he was fully in his seat again. Apparently he wasn't the only one affected by their kiss; his eyes follow Bones' blush from the top of her head down to where her layered tops covered the now pink skin of her cleavage.

"Are you staring at my breasts?" she asked in her normal tone, sounding genuinely curious.

He choked on the water he was trying to drink, "Bones!" he whispered. "Public place, here, public place."

"Oh, sorry," she whispered back, moving closer to him again. "It's just that I noticed you were, you know, staring."

"No—no, I was…" he started to say, brain working slower than usual as his eyes dropped down again. "You were blushing, and I was just…"

"It's okay, Booth. It's a common, ordinary, reaction," she added with a teasing grin.

"Bones," he replied, voice dropping an octave and moving close to her ear. "There is _nothing_ common about you, or your perfect, extraordinary--"

She interrupted him by strategically placing her hand on his thigh, making his throat close faster than bad allergies. "Get the check, Booth," she commanded with a sensual whisper.

††††

This was her first time.

At least in the back of a car.

Temperance Brennan had never understood the appeal of sexual encounters in backseats, so it had just been one of the many things she'd missed but refused to bemoan. But now—she could definitely understand the whole fascination as her partner lifted her skirt in the third row of seats of his SUV… _work_ SUV. A quick glance and her studious mind has realized that the first row didn't have enough room, the second row had Hannah's car seat and Parker's booster seat - so she'd dragged him to the third row. In all fairness, she didn't have to do a lot of the dragging, as Booth had been more than willing to follow; both of them joined at the lips, clumsily reaching for each other's clothes.

They shouldn't be doing this here, in the parking lot of a nice restaurant, but her whole life she had never been as sure as she was now that this could _not_ wait until they got home. She reached for her waist, pulling both of her tops off and leaving herself in a bra. His words back at the restaurant – the way he stared at her breasts - she knew this was right. Even in the darkness of the SUV she could see the way his pupils dilated with arousal at the sight of her, and she reached for the clasp of her bra, removing it quickly without taking her eyes off him.

He rewarded her with a moan before his hands covered her breasts, analyzing every square inch of her with the same scrutiny she reserved for bones. "Booth," she moaned as his curiosity grew and his lips touched her nipple. He first moistened the bud and then pulled back, watching with interest as it puckered up. His eyes were glued to hers as he bent down again, enveloping the sensitive skin with his mouth.

She was half-sitting, half-lying across the upholstery as she reached between their bodies for his belt buckle. His hands worked with hers, undoing the clasp, as well as the buttons and zipper. The helping hands returned to her own body, exploring the skin under her skirt and causing her bite her lower lip. Her hands continued their own research, reaching into his pants and finding the silky skin of his erection. She wrapped her hand around him, noticing just how hot and burning he was, and she realized she couldn't take much more foreplay.

"Now, Booth," she demanded breathlessly, bypassing his hands and pulling down her own underwear.

"No," Booth argued, and she saw a vein throbbing along his temple as he fought for control over his own body. She touched her lips to his temple in a soft kiss before moving lower to his ear.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding her head for emphasis before lightly scraping her teeth along his earlobe. "Now," she repeated, making sure to breathe sensually against the moistened skin.

Booth must've realized that this was not an argument he wanted to win, because his fingers found her entrance, testing her readiness. He moaned against her neck and she sat up in her seat, slouching until her buttocks were on the edge of the seat while he kneeled on the floor of the SUV. His eyes found hers again in the darkness and she nodded softly as he lined up their bodies.

Sex had never intimidated Brennan, but she realized this was the scariest moment of her life as Booth slowly entered her. He was shaking as well, though she wasn't sure whether it was from the physical strain or from the same anxiety she felt.

It was like a lifetime had gone by when she felt he was fully sheathed inside her, his pubic bone firmly pressed against her clit and sending shivers up her spine to the center of her nervous system. Endorphins were running through her veins, registering her body's satisfaction even while she still sought release.

He pulled back, almost all the way out, before pushing back in, drawing a loud moan out of her. His full-blown smile was almost more than she could take, and she realized she was already on the edge.

"I'm close," she warned him. He nodded, seeming pleased and surprised; his chest puffing out slightly and making her wish they had taken the time to fully undress.

He pulled back again, and then pushed back in - over and over again, rhythm increasing for both their sakes.

"Yes," she moaned her approval, using gravity to her advantage and meeting his thrusts. One strong arm came to wrap around her small waist, supporting her as her body slid down closer and closer to him until she wasn't sure where she ended and where he began. The new angle caused him to thrust even deeper, and she was gone, her orgasm hitting her harder than she expected.

She didn't realize he'd covered her mouth with his hand until after she came down from her climax. She'd probably been louder than usual and Booth's giant grin told her he wasn't exactly displeased by her vocalization.

"You're perfect," he whispered against her neck after he pulled his hand back. She wanted to argue, to disagree with him about his idealized view of her, but she was too sated to say anything. Instead she just continued to move with him, eager to see him hit his climax.

Her muscles tightened around him easily, still contracting on their own. She pushed against him until he gave, sitting on the floor between the second and third row of the SUV. Brennan sat up, pressing her chest against him, her knees firmly pressed against the seat behind him. He was panting against the skin of her neck, his hands clutching the skin of her hips.

His skin was slick against hers as she started to move, using her feet as leverage, rising and falling, rising and falling. The hands on her hips just tightened their grip as she moved, and she pulled back slightly to look at him in the indirect street lighting. His gaze dropped to her breasts first before moving upwards. Their eyes met and she resumed her movement against him, his hands now helping with the rising and falling of her hips.

Brennan studied the changes in Booth's face as he approached his released, her mind classifying and sorting every twitch, every small transformation. He started to thrust up again and her eyes closed; she recognized the renewal of her arousal, and felt an unexpected sharp bolt of pleasure. A hand found her clit and she opened her eyes again, looking down to see Booth's powerful fingers rubbing against her.

When she came this time, he followed her.


	18. Epilogue

--------------------------------

Epilogue

"Daddy, look!"

Brennan heard Parker say via the baby monitor receiver that was sitting in her office. She closed her laptop, knowing there was no way she was going to get another chapter written today.

It had been a week since their—_encounter_ in the back of his SUV, and she felt… happy. Before-her-parents-disappeared-happy.

She also felt terrified, afraid everything would shatter sooner or later.

Parker had come over Thursday evening after Booth and Brennan had finished their paperwork for the DA and Cullen. Hannah's cast was gone, and Rebecca had agreed to let Parker stay until Sunday, since their discovery at the beach had cut short Booth and Parker's time together.

She felt connected to Rebecca, considering the recent developments. As Brennan reached downstairs, she found Booth rummaging around the kitchen excitedly. "What's going on?" she asked with half a smile.

"Look!" Parker yelled and she turned towards Booth's living room, watching Parker hold Hannah's hands up in the air. The young boy took a step back and Brennan gasped as she saw Hannah take a step forward.

Booth joined her, camera now in hand, and started taking pictures.

"I thought they were supposed to crawl before walking," Brennan said, feeling something inside her chest tighten at the sight before her.

"Each kid's different, Bones," Booth explained proudly. "Plus the Squintlet's not _really_ walking yet, and some babies never learn how to crawl."

It was incredibly rare for her to be speechless, but this was easily one of the best moments of her life.

Parker continued to take steps back, and Hannah continued to match each of his steps with one of her own until they reached the entertainment center. Hannah giggled and Parker smiled at the adults, obviously sharing their notion that this was a moment to feel delight.

Hannah followed Parker back to the couch, excitedly waving her arms when Booth put the camera down and picked her up. Brennan watched as Booth's free hand messed up Parker's hair.

"Daddy, she's here," Parker excitedly pointed at Brennan, "can I tell my joke now?"

Booth nodded as Hannah played with the chain around his neck.

Parker ran up to Brennan, breathlessly asking: "Why the skeleton couldn't go to the party?"

Brennan's mind considered the question carefully, her brain trying to find an answer to the question even though it wasn't meant to. Skeletons and parties didn't mix, so why would a skeleton go to a pa—

"It's a joke, Bones. Say 'I don't know' and he'll tell you the answer," Booth explained amusedly.

"I don't know," she offered even though she wanted to think it over a little bit longer.

Parker was grinning excitedly as he answered. "Because he had no_body_ to go with!" he dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Brennan was silent for a microsecond before she joined Parker, honestly laughing hard. "Get it Booth? No _body_," she explained.

"I got it the first time he told it, Bones," he teased her.

"Wait, I have to write it down for Zack!"

Booth laughed this time, and she was pretty sure it was _at_ her instead of _with_ her.

††††

Booth had entered his room to find it uncharacteristically empty.

He hadn't realized how accustomed he'd grown to Bones' presence in his bedroom.

Now as he entered her bedroom, he wondered why they didn't spend the nights there; even though the bed hadn't been slept in days, it still looked welcoming.

There was soft music coming from the bathroom, but no sound of running water so he figured she was taking a bath. He wanted to investigate her bedroom further, but the image of his partner in lukewarm bathwater was way more enticing.

Booth locked her bedroom door and grabbed one of the baby monitor receivers, turning the volume down so that only the loudest of disturbances would come through. He carried it with him as he hovered in the doorway to the bathroom, his mouth going dry at the sight of Bones in candlelight.

The whole sink counter was covered in candles, and the room smelled like cinnamon. He didn't alert her to his presence; instead he spent a long time admiring her. The bathtub was pretty shallow: the water level hovered just below her nipples and Booth envied the bubbles that were quickly disappearing.

He was hard already, but he was content to stand by the door watching her. In one week, their relationship had progressed more than Booth had ever thought possible, even though pretty much everything had been unspoken; he had so many questions, but he also knew just Temperance wouldn't think twice before running if he weren't careful.

Very early into their partnership, he'd established that there were some topics that she would not discuss; every once in a while, he would push one of them just a little to see how far he'd get.

She hadn't had any nightmares, and he'd gotten her to promise to see a doctor if they returned: that was definitely one of the times when pushing into those 'dangerous' topics had turned out well.

Maybe they were too old for it; maybe he was just afraid of bringing it up, but their relationship was still undefined: no spoken exchanges of love, no promises of love no one could guarantee. Someday, perhaps, he would push the topic, but for now he was just glad to be able to watch her soak in a bubble bath, during their downtime and the only lives depending on them were the two that were sound asleep down the hall.

"Are you going to just stand there all night?" She asked him with a teasing grin.

Booth shook his head but stood still, his eyes meeting hers and holding its ground. It had to be a vision - no one was allowed to look that good.

Eventually he set down the monitor received on top of her closed toilet and started undressing, taking his time removing his clothes and keeping his eyes on her naked form. Bones emptied the bathtub halfway before refilling it with hot water. When he was done undressing, she moved to the center of the tub, allowing him to take his seat behind her.

Her hair smelled like some fruity concoction; the wet strands teased his still dry chest. His hands moved of their own accord to her breasts, teasing her nipples in the way he'd learned she liked.

There were still many things he needed to learn about pleasuring Temperance Brennan, but he was more than willing to spend the rest of his life learning.

Bones moaned at his ministrations, and his erection twitched against her lower back. One of his hands moved down to her center, finding her slick and wet in a way that had nothing to do with the water around them.

She moved before he did, her hips rising until her entrance was poised right above his erection. He pressed his lips against her shoulder blade, the kiss turning into a slight bite as she lowered herself onto him, muscles already contracting around him.

He would be lucky if he lasted five seconds.

The water around them was cooling down, but it was burning hot inside of her. His lips moved to the nape of her neck; his hands massaged her breasts, relishing in the way she surged against his palms.

There was not much room for maneuvering, so he was content to let her do most of the work. He felt relief as she climaxed, finally allowing himself to come as well.

Booth felt sated as he sat with in partner in the bathtub, a long comfortable silence between them, until the water got too cold.


End file.
